


Laid Back

by hostagesfic



Category: Little Mix (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Domesticity, F/M, Face-Sitting, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2017-12-14 00:49:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hostagesfic/pseuds/hostagesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bandage on his shin means Zayn can't get on his knees like he wants, but it's almost as good when Perrie shoves him onto the mattress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laid Back

**Author's Note:**

> [Perrie went](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m5qEzBznxsQ/Uaeb9p-aQLI/AAAAAAAAtp0/GkyIpkJ3YKE/s1600/tumblr_mnmi26HXqr1ra1ly1o2_500.jpg) [with Zayn](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JrmY4vztjW8/Uaeb9LGgZXI/AAAAAAAAtps/xs1BzD-TMlU/s1600/tumblr_mnmi26HXqr1ra1ly1o1_500.jpg) to get his [wolf's head tattoo](http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1Wa-eydarsQ/Uaeb8senaBI/AAAAAAAAtpo/iNhJzokh3pE/s1600/tumblr_mnmieaHdTx1ra1ly1o1_500.jpg), and we wrote porn. That's about it.

The bandage on his shin means Zayn can't get on his knees like he wants, but it's almost as good when Perrie shoves him onto the mattress. 

"Think even Jonnie knew something was up, you were so quiet in the car-” she unzips his shorts hastily, barely pushing them down to mid-thigh, and palming his cock through his pants. “God, lemme see, how hard y’are, babe, been bloody hours-" and Zayn groans when she shoves his pants down too, fisting his cock.

"There you are," she grins, stroking him firmly and nodding indulgently as he moans, eyes wide on her. "So lovely, babe, so good."

She keeps jerking him- too dry to come, just enough to make him huff, impatiently- as she unties her flannel shirt one handed, thumbs down her leggings, wriggles free of them, straddles his thighs. It’s not as easy to unbutton his shirt one-handed but she tries her best, gets the first couple and then just tugs it aside hastily.

"It looks really good, love," she hums- it hasn't quite been a couple of hours so he can't peel the bandage off yet, but she glances back and thumbs the smooth skin around the tape. "The shave isn't half bad either, to be honest," she giggles.

Zayn grunts and slides his hands up her thighs, rubs at the creamy soft skin of her legs. "Y'want me t'try it proper, when we've got the time, like?"

Perrie shrugs, affecting nonchalance, but she's very much on board with the idea. "Could be nice. We can do 'em together."

Zayn's cock twitches in her hand and he shifts beneath her. "Yeah," he mutters, "if y'like, Pez. C'mon, let's." He rubs one hand down, palming her cunt, fingers pressing through the tiny front of her soft cotton thong, brushing the edges of the fabric.

"So impatient," Perrie mutters, accent heavy on her tongue as she positions herself, pushing her thong aside, and slides down on Zayn's cock, tight and hot and wet.

It's a stretch- she's always tight, even more so without having taken a couple of fingers first, and her hands are shaky where they settle on Zayn's chest. "Fuck, oh," she gasps, delayed, brows furrowed. 

"Fuck," Zayn agrees, laughing a little hysterically. His hands are gripping her hips tightly, and he starts to lean forward, trying to sit up, a couple times like it's instinct, flops back each time, a little too overwhelmed to manage it. "Fuck, Pez, didn't mean, shit."

"Wanted it," Perrie mutters, and when she leans down to kiss his nose, he shifts inside her and it feels- it hurts a little, honestly, but it feels amazing, too, that familiar shiver in her lower belly.

Zayn gasps against her chin and tips his head back to kiss her properly as his hands move up under her shirt to touch her tummy, fingertips nudging the underwire of her bra. "Slow," he whispers, right against her lips when they pull apart for air. "Don't hurt y'self, babe."

Perrie nods and starts rocking gently in Zayn's lap, not quite lifting her arse but moving, at least. She shivers, arms goosebumpy, and laughs breathily. "Y'always look so good, getting inked."

"Feels good," he mutters, feeling her breathing shake and pound through her ribs, feeling her heartbeat throb in his cock. "Not as good as you, though-" and he grins up at her, bites his lip against a groan, still more than a little breathless.

"Cheesy," she rolls her eyes and her hips, hand curling up in Zayn's shirt. His collar is rumpled, pulled so far to the side that the Arabic beneath his collarbone peeks out. "Maybe I'll get one, too."

Zayn has to close his eyes at that, hips rolling up helplessly. "Where," he asks, voice rough when he can find it.

"Dunno," Perrie tips her head to the side, steadies her hands on Zayn's chest to lift herself properly, slide up and down on Zayn's cock slowly.

"Here," Zayn says, "lemme-" he brings one hand up to his mouth as she starts upwards a second time, spits in his palm and eases her up with the back of his wrist. He exhales, deep, when his cock slips free, but smiles at her anyway, rubs his wet fingers over her cunt and clit, past her thong- "Bit better," he says, "yeah?"

"What a gentleman," Perrie shivers, pushing down on Zayn's hand, grinding her clit against his fingers. "C'mon, then-"

Zayn spreads her open to get right at her clit with the pad of his thumb, his other fingertips dipping just inside, obviously trying to get her good and wet the best he knows how. "Wish- could sit on m'face," he mutters. “Get y’proper wet that way.”

"I could," Perrie huffs, petting Zayn's cheek. Zayn's _good_ with his mouth, knows how to work with Perrie to give her what she needs, let her take from him, pivoting her hips in tiny circles. "Yeah?"

“Yeah,” Zayn nods, after just a second’s hesitation, his fingers curling just inside her to the first knuckle, urging her forward as well as his hand on her hip does. “Yeah, c’mon, up.” 

She crawls forward, and his fingers press further in as she gets closer, like a reward, or promise of it. Perrie has to stop for a moment to half-stumble out of her thong- Zayn grins up at her, pulls his hand free slowly and brings his fingers up to his mouth, lips pursing around them as he licks them clean while she re-settles at his shoulders.

“Use those too, baby, yeah?” Perrie mutters, chin tipped down into her chest to watch Zayn beneath her. She’s been on edge for far too long, watching Zayn’s eyes going droopy and glazed as he got his tattoo, and knows this’ll help her loosen up, make Zayn feel better when he inevitably comes too soon, wound up too tight.

Zayn’s grin widens and she can see his tongue working between his fingers, now, as he draws them out. “How many y’want?”

Perrie licks her lips unconsciously, cards her own shaky fingers through Zayn’s fringe. “Two sounds right,” she decides, giving Zayn’s hair a gentle tug, enough to tip his head back and make his eyes fall closed. “Then you can fuck me.”

Without opening his eyes, Zayn nods, twice, and lifts her forward with the hand on her hip. His mouth falls open, tongue flattened and the tip just peeking out against his lower lip, and he makes a small noise, needy at the back of his throat.

It’s always surprising, how much Zayn loves this, the sharp sweet taste and smell of Perrie so close. Perrie’s lost count of the times she’s woken up to Zayn giving her hip a nuzzle, asked in a mellow rasp if he could go down on her before she’d even blinked the sleepiness away, and he’s _good_ at it too, isn’t afraid to get messy, his lips and chin and cheeks going shiny with her slick. Perrie lowers herself against him and Zayn’s tongue darts up to flick at her clit, not teasing but eager for it, humming as he presses two fingers to her cunt, framing her. She hasn’t let go of his hair, has to make a conscious effort to keep from pulling too hard as he licks at her, long swipes of his tongue, firm and warm and perfect.

Perrie moans, rolling low in her chest, and Zayn grips her thigh tighter as he licks at his own fingers, flicking between them to briefly slide the tip of his tongue inside her. He tips his chin up and kisses her clit, slides his middle finger inside her and curls it in, fucking her slowly and swirling his tongue just at the tip of her clit, making her hips twitch.

“Quit teas-” Perrie starts, but it dissolves into a groan as Zayn slides his finger out and adds a second, pushing deep inside Perrie and licking steady, slow circles around her clit. Perrie huffs, rocking down against his fingers, and can feel Zayn smile- his teeth graze at her, just barely, and Perrie almost collapses on top of him, thighs shaking with it. “‘mon,” she whines, and Zayn keeps his fingers inside, curls them in time with the rhythm of his mouth at her clit, the alternating licks and gentle, teasing hint of pressure of his teeth that he soothes over with his tongue, starting over again.

Perrie gasps when he draws back, stubble brushing up the sensitive insides of her thighs and folds, and he blinks, looking up at her, mouth glossy and gaping. “Ride m’face,” he mutters, “yeah? Like that, want you to come like that.”

Nodding, Perrie lowers her hips again, grinds messily, unsteadily on his fingers and tongue. She feels desperate, greedy, and Zayn’s content to give himself to her, pressing his tongue under her clit and between his fingers and back up, exhaling hot puffs against her. 

Zayn had said he wanted to get her wet, and Perrie can feel it, now, dripping down her thighs where he’s gotten it all down his chin and throat, can hear the sounds of his tongue and lips sliding against her at every movement. Zayn’s humming something, a non-tune, against her, and she can feel his throat working, shoulders hitching forward to press his face tighter between her thighs. 

“My- Zayn, my clit,” Perrie groans, so close her stomach has gone tense with anticipation, the warm fluttering of it the only thing she can think of. Zayn’s quick, purses his lips around her clit and sucks _hard_ , his tongue adding to the pressure, and in a matter of seconds Perrie gasps, whines, and comes with a shuddering moan, pulsing around Zayn’s fingers and between his lips, her mind going blissfully blank as she winds down, rides it out against Zayn.

Zayn's smiling widely, still so close she can feel it with the shift of his stubble against her skin, and it makes them both laugh when she shifts, ticklish. He still has his fingers in her, shifts them forward and presses experimentally, makes her bite her lip in the middle of a giggle. "Yeah?" He grins, speeding his hand up, raising an eyebrow.

It’s a bit soon, granted, but Zayn knows to keep away from Perrie’s clit for the time being, just working his fingers inside her. Perrie untangles her fingers from his hair, giving his head a gentle pet. “D’you want- c’mon, I’ll ride ya proper, yeah?”

Zayn smiles up at her, but it's a little tight. "Not gonna last," he says, "an' you know I'm proper useless after. Rather get you off again now t'be honest."

“Aw, darling,” Perrie coos, rolling her hips slowly and reaching behind herself to pet at Zayn’s ribs. “Mind if I move, babe? M’legs’ll hurt later an’ you oughtn’t kneel.”

“H’wever y’like,” Zayn agrees, rubbing her thigh. “on y’side?” He wipes his face haphazardly, waiting for her response, and Perrie thanks her stars one more time that no matter how much Zayn wants to get off, he always wants her to go first, is always patient to wait for that. Even if it means letting her take her time to gather her shaky legs and slide off his chest. 

They end up on their sides, Zayn’s right leg slotted between Perrie’s and his left safely away from knees and toes that might knock the fresh tattoo. Perrie grabs his hand in both of hers, pecks a kiss to the bird on the back of it before dragging it down between her legs, folding up his fingers exactly how she wants them, index and middle out. Zayn takes over with a smile, kisses the corner of Perrie’s mouth as he slides his fingers inside her again, pressing their foreheads together.

Humming, Perrie lifts her leg, just far enough to nudge her thigh against Zayn’s cock, and giggles when his breath catches in his throat, fingers curling up inside her. “Hiya.”

“Ngh,” Zayn returns, letting his forehead knock against hers, eyelashes fluttering down to his cheeks. He looks nearly out of it, but his fingers are still careful and calculated, sinking deeper until his palm is snug against her clit. “Hiya.”

“Ohhh, that’ll help,” Perrie whispers, rocking forward into the heel of Zayn’s hand. She can’t help smiling when she thinks, fleetingly, of the last time they got off like this, tucked away in Zayn’s bunk on the bus. There’s a happy flutter that goes with knowing that even when they have plenty of space, it’s just as easy to fit closely together. “Just- do that, yeah,” she mutters, even though Zayn doesn’t need much direction, already working his fingers inside her and rubbing at her clit.

Zayn’s gentler, this time, fingers moving slow and nearly delicate, stroking the tips as if trying to get at her clit from the inside, coaxing her body tight and urgent once more. “C’mon,” he breathes, “Pez, c’mon, you c’n do it.”

“Wouldn’ya like me to,” Perrie huffs, biting her lower lip and grinding into Zayn’s hand, riding his fingers against his thigh. Zayn bends his knee, pushes his thigh up to give her more pressure, nudging her clit. Perrie chases the warmth of it, works herself up quickly until she loses her rhythm and comes again, pleasantly mellow, dropping her head onto Zayn’s shoulder as he helps her through it.

Zayn slips his fingers free and lets her rest against his thigh as he wipes his hand clean in the sheets, brings it up to push the hair out of her face. “Hey, babe.” He loves watching her like this, struggling to get her breath back, pleased and lightly flushed post-orgasm, loves how it takes her a moment to raise her head for a kiss.

They kiss slowly as Perrie recollects her thoughts, regains control of her limbs. As soon as she remembers her hand still against Zayn’s prick she gives him a squeeze, kissing Zayn’s gasp off his lips before leaning back. “Thank you, love. Your turn.”

“Yay,” Zayn cheers weakly, scrunching his nose up, giving her the smile that shows all of his sharpest teeth. 

Perrie nudges Zayn’s shoulders, gets up on wobbly knees to straddle his hips again. She pulls her top off as an afterthought, flicks the clasp of her bra between her shoulderblades and discards that, too, scrunching her nose when Zayn makes a show of licking his lips, sleepy-eyed. She wraps a hand around Zayn’s cock and uses the other to unbutton his shirt, hums, “Next time let’s do _all_ the undressing first, yeah?”

Zayn nods, eyes still fixed on her chest, hands twitching in the sheets since she hasn’t given him permission to touch yet. It’s not really a thing except for how it’s become one, how they’d stumbled over it and themselves and into it and haven’t bothered to get up, as it were. “Gorgeous,” he whispers, “so beautiful, Perrie.”

Blowing Zayn a kiss, Perrie directs his cock to nudge the head between her folds. She means to tease a bit more, maybe, but Zayn’s done his waiting and in the absence of his fingers, Perrie wants to feel full again, to squeeze around him and hear him moan for her. She lowers herself slowly, and she’s still tight, can’t slide down in one go like she loves to try for, but she’s wet and it’s _easy_ , even if it takes a minute. It’s good, too, easing herself down, inch by inch like a reward for both of them, and she always has a moment to wonder if she’ll make it, another moment of awe and pride when she does, her arse cradled in his hips and skinny thighs, his eyes wide and impressed like he always is. 

“Shit,” Zayn squeaks, and maybe he’s been this flushed or maybe Perrie’s just noticing it, but he’s red all down his throat and pinking across his chest, making his tattoos stand out and look fresh again. “Shit, shit, Perrie, Pez-”

“You can touch,” Perrie mutters, settling both hands on Zayn’s chest again, familiar, and arching her back and pushing her chest out as she lifts herself, rocks on Zayn’s prick. “‘mon, baby, let’s see you.”

Zayn has his hands on her almost before the sentence is out of her mouth, palming her breasts and thumbing at her nipples, squeezing gently and rocking his hips in time. “Perrie, jesus,” he says, voice raspy like he’s too distracted to clear it. 

“What if,” Perrie gasps, thumbing at Zayn’s chest, the red lips tattooed on his breastbone, “if one day I jus’- said y’couldn’t talk? During? Could y’do that?”

Zayn’s eyes widen but he clamps his mouth closed, biting the inside of his cheek, nods once, then again. His hands drop to her waist, the questions he’s not asking verbally. 

Perrie hums, grinding her arse down, sighing at the feel of Zayn’s cock twitching inside her. “Lemme hear ya, Zayn, yeah? We can- later, tell me what y’think, love.”

“Hot,” Zayn blurts out, “I’d really- be good, we should, later.” He can’t help how he’s moving against her now, hips rolling up against her arse. They haven’t quite found a rhythm between them, yet, but it’s not deterring the twisting build up in his stomach, the ache of how tense his entire body is strung. He’s been trying not to think about how long the wait has been, but he’s also been thinking about this moment on and off since this afternoon. “Babe-”

“So good, Zayn,” Perrie nods, working to match the quick jerks of Zayn’s hips, pressing down as he thrusts up. It’s not perfect- Zayn’s far too unsteady for it- but it _works_ , and Perrie keeps talking- “lovely, babe, such a good boy f’me.”

“Perrie,” Zayn tries again, squeezing her hips to try to get her attention, stammering when she arches her back and raises an eyebrow at him. “Condom, we- if you want, we.”

Laughing, Perrie shakes her head, leans forward to pet Zayn’s scruffy cheek. “Bit late f’that, love,” she shrugs, appreciating his concern. “I’m good, g’on.”

“I _know_ , I _meant_ ,” Zayn huffs and bites his lip, “meant I can’t- you’re all on top’ve me, can’t pull out if you want, you’ve gotta, an’ all, just-” 

“Zayn,” Perrie shushes him, squeezing around him just for the reaction, “y’don’t hafta. Let go, yeah? Lemme feel you.”

It’s not like it’s the first time they’ve done it this way, but Zayn always has to check, always does, sometimes even twice, even if it’s technically too late. It’s- he just wants to be sure they’re on the same page, every time, is all. They know it’s a risk, don’t make a habit of it, exactly, and he never wants there to be any reason that there’s _fault_ thrown around if anything should happen. But he trusts Perrie, and her implicit acknowledgement, _I trust you too_ , is enough, every time. 

“Okay, okay,” he mutters, “I just- just.” It feels dumb, saying it like this, but he reaches up for Perrie’s neck, thumbing at her jaw, the kiss he can’t reach to give her at the moment. “Love you.”

Perrie nods, “Love you, babe,” trying and failing to contain her grin as she picks her hips up again, fucks herself on his cock as steadily as she can, fighting the burn in her thighs. This _boy_ , this stupidly sweet and goofy and sexy and devastatingly _lovely_ boy, will be the death of her.

“Love you,” Zayn says again, bitten off, forced out as he fucks his hips up in earnest, hard, trying to get her to clench again, trying to hit that angle that will make her moan for him one last time tonight. “Love you, love, shit, shit.”

Whining, Perrie flutters around Zayn- it’s not quite enough to make her come again, but it works her up enough to squeeze greedily around Zayn’s prick as he bottoms out, her mouth falling open around Zayn’s name. He’s all she can see even when she closes her eyes.

The way he can feel her body working around his cock, bearing down on him, is exactly enough, and Zayn’s coming before he can warn her properly, dick throbbing and hands kneading her hips, rolling her against him. 

“There y’go,” Perrie shivers, letting Zayn fuck into her how he needs, going almost limp to let him ride it out. His cock pulses hotly inside her, filling her, and the thought of Zayn taking her like this, _claiming_ her, makes her dizzy, needy.

“Fuck,” Zayn gasps, “Perrie.” It sounds like an entire sentence, sounds like a song, even if her brain is fuzzy and overdramatic at the moment. “Pez.” The hand at her neck guides her down easily, until he can lean up to press his mouth against hers, lazy and simple, lips fitting against each other’s blindly.

“Christ,” Perrie gasps into Zayn’s mouth, doesn’t give him the room to laugh about it, meshing their lips and nudging his tongue with her own. She doesn’t stop kissing him even as she slides off his cock with a wriggle, or as she undoes the last of his shirt buttons, flopping down on his chest and skating her fingertips up his sides, quiet and happy.

After a minute, Zayn yawns, and ruffles her hair. “Hey,” he whispers, mumble-soft.

“Hi,” Perrie giggles. 

Zayn nudges their noses together in an eskimo kiss and manages to kiss her once more, properly, before yawning a second time. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“Y’alright,” Perrie shrugs and yawns, too, like it’s contagious. “Wanna go take the bandage off, give the ink a wash?”

“Mmm,” Zayn groans, shoving her over gently and raising his thigh to look at his leg, still a bit trembly. “Should. I’ll be back, yeah? Bring you a flannel, if you c’n wait.”

“What a _prince_ ,” Perrie grins, tipping her head back into the pillow. “Bring me crisps, would you?”

Zayn rolls his eyes, but his smile is soft as he rolls out of bed, reaches down for her hand to kiss the back of her knuckles. “Whatever you like, princess.”


End file.
